Hope in the Darkest of Places
by butterfly-pieces
Summary: Time in captivity can make or unmake a person...but can hope remain? One-Shot. Lisa/Joshua


I really mulled over not writing this, for various reasons, but it's done, and I'm not going to tuck it under the carpet (not that I have a carpet o.O)

* * *

><p>She has been captured – <em>trapped<em>– in her own web of lies.

The lies she had told herself – _that she could do as her mother asked, make her proud, fulfill her duty to her kind_ – and the lies she had told the others – _that she __**could**__ do this, without hesitation_.

She should've known better.

Lisa had no chance against Anna – the Queen of Lies – but she had believed...she _wanted_ to believe that Tyler's mom – _Mrs. Evans_ – could forge her into a stronger person than she is; she can fight to protect, but she cannot fight to _kill_– that is her mother's personal skill.

Now all she can think of is how Mrs. Evans will take the loss of her son.

Lisa has failed her with Anna, but she has destroyed so much more by failing her with Tyler.

Lisa wishes she could cry – that she could be human _enough_ to cry, but she _isn't_, and she _can't_.

Perhaps, if she could cry, some of these emotions would be released from her chest.

She feels pain; an unimaginable ache that makes her want to tear at this skin she wears until she can tear at her true face – until she can claw through her very being.

She feels pain, yes, but no tears.

Her mother enjoys that.

The visits are predictable, at first.

Anna comes to gloat – to reveal new pieces of her plan and, more importantly, to show her what a _real_daughter should be.

She throws Ryan's body at her feet, accusing his corpse – naming him her collaborator – and a flicker of hope ignites in that moment.

Joshua's body isn't in front of her; he hasn't been caught.

Pain, at least, has not taken away hope.

She loses count of the days – loses count of everything – and she dreams in memories, her eyes still open.

Her emotions are too real – too _human_– and they force her to curl up in her grandmother's chair, trying to force them to be still, but like memories, they are there, easily beckoned but not as easily sent away.

She starts being as apathetic as her mother – the emotions are there, but weary – and she only shows a glimmer of emotion whenever Erica is mentioned.

Anna soon discovers Erica's alliance with the Fifth Column.

It hurts when Lisa is told that her "twin" is the reason for this.

Still, every time Anna appears – angry because Erica has evaded capture and managed a single yet minute blow – Lisa smiles.

The smile disappears whenever Anna reminds her that Erica believes Lisa has betrayed them – that she killed Tyler.

In a way, she had, so she doesn't blame them, she just wishes it didn't feel so true.

She hears the sound of Anna's arrival and simply waits, curled up inside the chair, refusing to make things easy by simply stepping out to welcome her with tired eyes.

When she feels fingertips on her cheek, her eyes snap open, knowing no touch of her mother would be this gentle.

"Joshua," she furrows her brow, swallowing.

She doesn't trust this – doesn't trust _hope_– and she doesn't know why he's here – what has taken him so long.

"Why are you here?" She asks, forcing her voice to a growl.

"She didn't send me." He reads her eyes just as easily as her mind. "She's left the ship. Amy has run away."

That makes Lisa quirk a brow. She hadn't expected that. Her mother doesn't speak often of Amy, nothing that describes the girl as a _person_, but a _tool_; another servant to provide her with everything she needs. It stands to reason that the girl, like Lisa, would eventually see past the figure of a mother and directly into the Queen's eyes, but Lisa hadn't thought it would happen this soon.

"She's the lucky one, then," Lisa wants to jump him – to embrace him, to ask him when they're leaving, if he's spoken to Erica, if she knows the truth – but she keeps still.

She's mastered that skill by now.

Weeks in captivity have certainly served as a lesson to her and she will not make the same mistake twice.

"Are you hurt?" He's frowning as he begins to pull her arms towards the light – what little there is – and it's an odd thing to see. Joshua is often serious, calm, and she remembers seeing a hint of a smile once, but never a frown. He looks as if he were angry with _himself_.

Eventually, his study of her wounds – scratches, mostly, and some bruises her mother's beating have left behind – force her to stand.

"Is it really you?" She whispers, wanting to slap herself for letting _his_ emotion break _hers_.

He nods, placing a hand on her cheek. She thinks he might be examining one of the scratches there. "Forgive me. I should have come sooner."

She smiles, weakly, "Would that have made a difference?" She doesn't let him answer, not that she expects him to. "Is Mrs. Evans...?"

"She is alive," he meets her eyes briefly as he answers, and she half expects him to begin healing her, but he doesn't. He meets her eyes again, apologetic, and holds her gaze. "It's not safe yet. You must remain here."

"I know," her smile is bitter, but resigned.

"She won't kill you." It's his way of assuring her and – borrowing a phrase Tyler used to use so much – it _sucks_.

"I wish she would," she crosses her arms, turning from him and facing the wall where she had first seen Tyler's death before her very eyes.

"Your people will need you, my Queen-"

She turns, eyes glaring, "I'm not a Queen, Joshua. My people need someone stronger. I'm not strong. I failed them. I failed the humans." She's thankful that he doesn't interrupt her – that his eyes remain on her, demonstrating a gentleness that belongs only to Joshua, which makes her rant easier to say. "I had it in my hands. I could've ended her life. But...I believed she had changed. I thought, for one second, emotions had finally made her...like us."

"You are a Queen." He takes a step toward her, eyes determined to look nowhere else, "You are my Queen. You are our Queen."

She huffs, frustrated. "And my kingdom is a cell, my legacy a carpet of dead bodies and a history of failures," she murmurs, feeling the lack of tears stinging her eyes. How can she tell him without breaking his faith in her that every time he utters the word "Queen", her heart trembles? "I will not rule like this." Joshua opens his mouth but she stops him, her fingers over his lips, and he freezes – either because of her touch or his obedience, she isn't sure. "When it is my turn to rule, if my people will have me, I will do so only after I've made up for my mistakes, and released myself from this prison. From every prison."

She doesn't know if he'll understand what she means – she barely understands it herself – and she lets her hand fall.

The look in his eyes tells her more than she needs to know – he'll follow her anywhere – and she finally lets herself do what she had wanted to do since she saw him.

She steps towards him until they're face-to-face and leans into him, her arms cradled in front of her chest, and he wraps one arm around her waist, the other placed gently on her shoulder, something she recognizes as an awkward embrace, but it's enough.

It doesn't mean anything, really, and somehow, it means everything, because her emotions aren't killing her, for once, and hope?

It flickers free – the only part of her that remains free, for now.


End file.
